Well, I was recently looking at a picture of Eddie Vedder at the Cubs game. That word came to mind. A friend of mine once said to me, “Hey, I like Pearl Jam, but for me it’s not visceral like it is for you and die-hard fans.”

Love is visceral. It really cannot be defined, but it can be expressed. This visceral love of Eddie Vedder has been inside me for over 25 of my almost 35 years of life. It’s in my blood, my bones, my memoir…it cannot be separated from my chemistry. Why?

Well, I said you really can’t define love. When a young girl falls in love with a rock star, most people think it’s physical attraction. I won’t lie–yes, at ten, I fell in love with the gyrating, long-haired, fair-eyed rock god on my old Magnovox. But his poetic grace, his fierce activism (for the right causes), his passionate lyrics, his healing through music…the very power in his voice–his proof in all his causes through action…all attributes that made this man even more attractive to me.

Can I explain why my chest wants to explode every time I see a picture of him? No, and I don’t have to. Am I a cancer patient with the Make-a-Wish foundation? Thankfully, no, and blessings and peace to all those who suffer. But does my heart have one lifelong wish? Yes. That wish is to meet him.

What would I do? Why am I so hell-bent on doing this before either of us leave the earth? Because I need to thank him. I need to connect with his energy. I’d like to have him sign my handmade ukulele (thank you, Lindsey, best friend)…I’d like to have him sign my left forearm with a simple “EV” that I would immediately get tattooed in.

But sometimes gratitude doesn’t get its chance to shine. So what do you do? You pay it forward. I often think about my own activism in social justice, kindness and appreciation to our veterans, and the way I am with people–even difficult people–are a result not only of my own beautiful soul, but also a result of Eddie who raised me. The “fatherless” son to the “fatherless” daughter. The world is interesting like that, isn’t it?

So, I bought Temple of the Dog tickets in July (that yes, I’m still paying off, with interest now, because of some greedy-ass ticket scalpers). There’s not even a guarantee that he will be there, though I’m baffled as to why not, if there are only ten shows, PERIOD. Please, universe. Let him be in Philly for me, even if I don’t get to meet him.